A/N: Well, I just had to give No.6 a try! To those of you who already know my work, I hope you guys like it! And to those of you who have stumbled upon my fics because it's No.6 and don't know me… well, welcome, and I hope you enjoy my writing!

This fic was written based on the novels, so there are a few things here and there that might be confusing to you if you have only watched the anime. I just needed my own personal closure for these two ;)

This is part I of this fic, the second one will be released shortly. I'm not sure if It'll be a two part fic or three part fic, we'll see ;)

Not betaed. Don't hesitate to point out possible typos or even plot incongruences if you find any.

The Freedom You Stole

Part I: Eternal Vow

Karan closed the large oven door with a content sigh before wiping her forehead delicately with her wrist. It was the sixth batch of muffins she baked today, and it was only slightly past lunchtime.

Her bakery's popularity surely had escalated in the last few years, so much so that she had come to a point where she couldn't handle it all by herself. Lili was now older but still as eager to help as always. However, she was still underage and had to attend school. But Karan hadn't hesitated in hiring her mother, her lovely friend Renka to work beside her – someone in whom she could trust, and someone who, now more than ever, needed work.

The fall of their former utopian city of No.6, had left Renka without a husband and with two children to take care of. Well, the youngest one hadn't been born yet back then, but the situation had still looked dire.

But things were a lot better now, and the natural balance of the world had returned. No.6 wasn't the same place anymore. It had taken a while for the social damage to be fixed and for the city to get back on the right track without the useless hierarchical rules and demands. Thanks to Shion's intervention and active work on this new city, everything was changing, heading more towards what it used to be before that false 'perfection' that had existed.

Technologically, useful things remained, but people lived in equality, and more importantly, they were free. Free to feel, free to speak, free to be how and who they wanted to be. They had equal rights regardless of social status, and the city was no longer divided by areas. It was truly becoming a place where people felt at home and at peace.

The day of the fall, when her beloved son Shion had appeared in front of her had been one of the happiest of her life. He had looked exhausted, thin, bruised and bloody, his clothes completely torn apart. But he was alive and healthy, and he had come home, to her.

He had looked obviously happy to see her, but there was devastation in his features, something that wasn't exactly sadness, because there was an odd determination in him, then.

That determination still shone. It pushed at Karan's will to live as happily as possible beside the son she had almost lost.

Shion. Her beautiful boy, with his glowing snowy hair – a proof that Shion had held on to his life and refused to give in. It, too, was beautiful.

How much he had changed in the months they had been apart, but those changes had definitely been for the best. There was a light radiating from Shion that Karan had never seen before, and his eyes, instead of being dull and lost, now carried the life of knowledge, perseverance and most of all, an unfaltering curiosity.

Yes, Shion had grown up. Yes, those eyes were now firmly focused on the future, relentless and strong.

But those same eyes, just like before, once in a while, had that same distant look of endless longing. Only now, it was always filled with hope.

Karan knew his heart well by now. She knew what – or rather, who – gave him hope.

The person she had held in her arms alongside with Shion on that fateful day. The single person who had been able to deliver hope to her in days when everything seemed lost.

The person Shion had once given up on everything for, and the one who saved him in return. She would never have enough words of gratitude to offer him, and not enough gestures of kindness to repay him. Not having Safu return had been heart-breaking, but seeing Nezumi had brought her the kind of joy that would never be erased. She was glad that she had been able to meet him.

The kind of person Nezumi was… Karan had no words to describe him. He certainly was… interesting. Handsome. No, beautiful was definitely a better word. Smart. Mysterious. But so much more, as well. She understood why Shion had longed to see him again after all those years, and why, even to this day, he never seemed to had regrets over having extended his hand out to him when they had been younger. Karan herself had never felt resentment towards her son's actions back then, even if had stripped them off of their privileges.

Some things, she began to understand, happened for a reason. Good things, bad things… they all had a purpose that would be unveiled sooner or later. And Nezumi's and Shion's fates had somehow been intertwined for a long time.

She had spoken a lot with Nezumi, but definitely not enough. She had felt like there was so much more she wanted to know, but knew it wasn't in her right to ask. That boy, though, had taken care of her son; he had brought him back, healthy, strong, and more importantly, alive. Shion's soul and his heart were unmistakably alive. And it had all been thanks to Nezumi's.

That boy meant everything to Shion, it had been clear in the way he had looked at him, how he had spoken to him. And in spite of Nezumi's aloof demeanour, considering all the things they had gone through together…

He had to care just as much.

But Nezumi hadn't come to stay. Karan had felt terribly sad, but she understood that her sadness was no match against Shion's. She had no idea what had happened when he went to see Nezumi off, but…

Shion's determination had become as fierce as ever.

He made a promise to me, he had said. I won't be sad. We'll meet again, for sure.

Like Karan herself, Shion struggled with words when Nezumi was mentioned, as if he didn't know how to describe him or couldn't find a suitable way to speak of him. Shion sometimes spoke about that room they used to live in the West Block – small, cosy and filled with wonderful books that had a dusty, leafy smell –, of the way too small bed they had shared. Of Nezumi's delicious soup that had made him so happy. He sometimes recited a few lines of Shakespearean plays for Karan to hear, but those moments would sometimes be followed by a mournful silence.

The strain in his voice and the obvious longing in his eyes gripped at Karan's heart. Oh, how desperately she wanted to know about those days when Shion had been away from her. But her son was always very vague. Inukashi and Rikiga, though, sometimes liked to tell small tales of their daily adventures, but they didn't speak a lot about Nezumi, or when they did, it was to badmouth him (but not without a tiny hidden fondness). They spoke of his voice and how well he sang. Karan hoped that he'd sing for her one day.

Life moved on and the world was still spinning for all of them. Shion himself kept his resolution unfaltering and worked as hard as he possibly could to make the city of No.6 a harmonious place. Karan had always known that he was an intelligent boy with great potential, and yet, clearly he had been in a dormant state for most of his life, because this Shion, this man that was now one of the most important personalities of No.6, was not the same as that dull-eyed child that had left her side.

Nezumi had polished him up rather beautifully. Karan knew this in her heart even though no-one had told her so.

Five years had passed since the day Nezumi had left. However, regardless of how much Shion had progressed, regardless of how much he had grown and matured, his essence was still there, and he always kept his kindness intact. The things he went through in the West Block – he never forgot about them, and that helped him keep his humbleness in check.

Karan was pleased. No matter how well things were going, she never wanted to be trapped in the claws of greed and power, and neither did she wish for that to happen to Shion. Thankfully, neither did he. So he struggled, day after day, always looking forward into the future with his heart firmly placed upon his hopes and dreams.

Karan would say that they were happy. It was no lie. But Shion's happiness wasn't equal to hers, and this was something she had grown to accept. It had hurt at first, only to be replaced by a growing anxiety that had led her to want to do something, anything to help him, to make him feel better. It wasn't something that he expressed, no. Like after he had saved Nezumi and they had moved to Lost Town, Shion was surrounded by this odd air of resignation and a gloominess that only those who knew him well were able to perceive. Only now, different from then, Shion hoped. Day in and day out. Wish after wish.

A part of her understood that Shion was suffering. This knowledge she had that he lived in constant silent despair, aching for something he couldn't reach, was unbearable for her to cope with as a mother. But she had no other choice. It wasn't her place to force him to feel differently, to live differently, especially when he clearly didn't want to.

Shion was popular because he was kind, good-looking, influential, smart and caring. He still worked with her at the bakery shop once in a while, even. There was no doubt that he always kept himself busy. Girls wanted nothing more than to catch his attention, and he could've easily gotten himself a girlfriend already.

Karan smiled, looking, making her way back to the front of the shop.

Shion had always been oblivious to these things, Karan would often think. Even towards Safu, who was someone he had always had by his side, and someone who had loved him deeply. Even though he had loved her, too, those feelings had never reached her the way she had wanted to. Karan had thought otherwise – she had genuinely believed that Safu would come back in one piece and that, someday, she and Shion would get married and be happy together. But now she saw that, even if Safu was still with them, this would never happen.

Shion ached, desired and longed for that someone with every fiber of his being. His feelings burned with a fierce passion that pushed him forward in every step of his daily life.

Those feelings were frightening. Karan couldn't even begin to comprehend them, but she had no choice but to be grateful for them because they kept Shion alive.

But she understood that those same feelings were very volatile, and that they called out to him every minute of his existence.

That room in the West Block, filled with books and precious memories. That world that stretched out beyond No.6 – a world Shion was scared of, but fascinated by – and that man…

That beautiful, cunning man that had drifted away carrying Shion's very soul with him. That man who had saved him, awakened him. That man who had the key to Shion's happiness.

Why… why don't you come home, Nezumi? Don't his feelings reach you at all?

Five years. Nezumi still hadn't returned. But Shion kept waiting, opening the window of his room, day after day, waiting for that mysterious runaway to leap inside, at last.

What is Nezumi like? Karan had dared to ask, once. Even if she had met the boy, she had wanted to hear Shion speaking of him, so she could empathise, so she could grasp what connected them beyond the obvious.

Shion had all but blushed before genuinely struggling with words and stumbling over them.

I don't think any words I use will ever do him justice, he had said. He's unlike anyone I've ever met. He's…

Karan had enjoyed seeing the conflicting emotions on her son's face, but didn't feel compelled to tease him.

Like the wind, Shion had said, gently, ending the conversation with that simple statement.

But…

Beautiful. Fierce. Courageous. Implacable. Strong. Captivating.

Those and many more were the words she knew Shion wanted to use, but chose not to. She understood why, yet she smiled, sadly so.

Do you understand, Nezumi? The extent of what you mean to him? How reckless and genuine his emotions flow for you?

Does it scare you?

Karan thought so.

But you made a promise to him, didn't you? You have to keep it, Nezumi. Like you kept your promise to me.

Like Shion, Karan kept hoping, and praying. She prayed for Nezumi's safety and for the day to come when he'd come home for them and she could bake wonderful things for him. She prayed for a time when Shion would smile and laugh every day. She hoped that they could be family, someday.

No matter what you think, Nezumi. This home is waiting for you.

So… please, come home, Nezumi.

000

Shion's heart was pounding as he descended the familiar stairs to the set of underground living quarters. It had been years since he had last been there, but the secluded place was still marvellously hidden in spite of how much things had changed outside, and everything looked the same.

The West Block was no longer a dead place made for rejected people, but now possessed small houses and was better taken care of in spite of being a place still not nominated a part of No.6. Nevertheless, it resembled a small town now rather than a dumpster filled with poverty, and people here no longer lived struggling, even though it was still a big contrast to No.6 itself.

Things would change, with time, and worlds would meet, but it was still too soon for such different worlds to collide so forcefully, even though No.6 and the West block now held hands in all sorts of affairs and people came and went easily. Rikiga-san had actually been highly responsible for this.

Shion's gloved hand trembled as he placed it over the doorknob. How he wished that Tsukiyo was here with him, cheeping his encouragement and eagerness in his ear. Sadly, the small mouse had passed away two years ago, but Shion still missed the little fellow. He wondered if the other two still travelled with Nezumi. He hoped they did.

Taking a deep breath, he turned the doorknob around and opened the door. He remembered the oil lamp on the ground next to the door and automatically picked it up, glad that it was still there. Fishing out a lighter from his pocket – that he had brought just in case – he lit the lamp, the small flame illuminating the previously room.

Shion almost dropped it. He had no idea what he had expected to see after so long, but he definitely hadn't expected to find the place exactly the same as it had been on the day he and Nezumi had left for the correctional facility.

Everything looked as it had back then. The bed, perfectly made by Nezumi. The shelves of books, perfectly arranged as Shion had left it. The small camping stove. The sofa. 'Othello', resting innocently over the centre table because Nezumi had been reading it the night before they had left.

How can this be?

With his breath stuck inside his lungs, Shion took a look around. Yes, there was a lot of dust everywhere, and even a bit of mould on the furniture, but that was to be expected.

Shion's heart tightened with emotion.

Did Inukashi do this? He wondered. Has he been coming here to make sure this place is well guarded?

He was sure of it. Inukashi was that kind of person, surprisingly caring and thoughtful when you least expected him to.

In spite of himself, Shion smiled.

The air smelled strongly of humidity, and it was terribly cold inside. Still, Shion couldn't help but feel surrounded by comfort. He could still recall the smell of Nezumi's cooking, and the scent of the cheap soap that invaded the room when he left the shower. He imagined the three tiny mice, Tsukiyo, Hamlet and Cravat taking naps on the bed, or chirping happily as he read for them. He imagined Nezumi tying his hair in a pony-tail as Shion read and eyeing him with that intense but inscrutable expression. His eyes would narrow and then turn condescending. He would throw some sarcastic remark at him and they'd end up discussing the book in a well-mannered, yet heated argument because their views never matched.

How he had longed to return here. How he still longed for it, even today, even after having gone back to leading a comfortable life.

This is where I want to be, Nezumi. This is all I pray for.

He placed the lamp down on the centre low table and sat down on the dusty couch. Pulling his gloves off and putting them aside, he reached out for the book and brushed the dust off the cover. The tip of a dry leaf peeked from the pages, indicating the place Nezumi had left off. Carefully, Shion opened the book in those pages and opened them there, revealing the leaf. Gently, he put it next to his gloves before starting reading out loud.

I do not like the office;

But, sith I am enter'd in this cause so far,-

Prick'd to it by foolish honesty and love,-

I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately;

And, being troubled with a raging tooth,

I could not sleep.

There are a kind of men so loose of soul,

That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs:

One of this kind is Cassio:

In sleep I heard him say, "Sweet Desdemona,

Let us be wary, let us hide our loves";

And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand,

Cry, "O sweet creature!" and then kiss me hard,

As if he pluck'd up kisses by the roots,

That grew upon my lips: then laid his leg

Over my thigh, and sigh'd and kiss'd; and then

Cried, "Cursed fate that gave thee to the Moor!"

Shion closed his mouth, feeling his eyes sting. He wanted to curl in on himself and lay in that couch forever, holding to his chest that same book Nezumi had read time and time again. Yet, he simply closed his eyes and took a few calming breaths.

He could imagine these same lines being recited by Nezumi himself. What kind of voice would he use for this? How would his hands, always elegant and firm, gesticulate? Would he walk around the room as the words slipped easily from those thin, well-formed lips or would he stand in front of Shion and give him a face-to-face performance? Either way, Shion would be overwhelmed and enraptured.

He recalled those times far too often. Those memories were still far too vivid for him. Sometimes, he wondered if they would ever fade away, if time would slowly erase them until they were nothing but fragments of a past long gone. Sometimes, he wondered if these feelings would ever recede instead of growing. This hell that was his own memory was also his sanctuary, his lifeline. He didn't want to lose hold of it if he could help it. Ever. Because without Nezumi, no matter what he did, he was still lost, wandering.

I don't know what this is... I just long for you.

Nezumi, I want to be here with you, again.

Shion heaved a trembling sigh and licked at his dry lips. Slowly, he closed the book, placing a hand over the cover and looked around. If this place was in such a good condition still, that had to mean something. It was almost as if their home was simply there, patiently waiting for them to return, just like Shion waited for Nezumi.

That room had a life of its own, and Shion didn't intend to let it go to waste.

I should buy a proper lock, he considered. To keep this place safe. Inukashi shouldn't have to worry about it. I should do something for him in return.

Determined, Shion put the book aside and stood up. He wondered if their cleaning appliances were still in good condition – the place certainly needed a thorough scrubbing.

Shion decided that he'd come back to this room every few months. He wanted it to be ready and suitable to receive Nezumi when he came home.

Because he would. He definitely would. And Shion couldn't wait for the day to come.

000

The sun was setting beautifully, and even though it was the middle of Autumn, from the top of that tall hill, an elegant set of grey eyes scrutinized the land down below. Nezumi couldn't recognize the area where the West Block was supposed to be, because instead of wreckage, garbage and devastation, now he could see small, humble buildings and houses, a small public garden, and the now lively and huge market. There was even a semblance of a dusty road that seemed to connect No.6 to the West Block.

Most of the old, decaying buildings had been torn down, but Inukashi's hotel still stood. It looked in better shape, though. A light curiosity invaded Nezumi's chest as what had become of the young mutt.

It wasn't as though Nezumi has expected things to be exactly as they had been before, but he certainly hadn't expected so much to have changed in such a short amount of time.

A sense of both pride and uneasiness filled him, and he didn't enjoy the conflicting emotions at all.

Shion had done it. He was still doing it, keeping his word and fighting for his ideals. Nezumi had good ears, and news travelled fast. He understood how things were right now.

You really are an impressive, scary little fellow, aren't you, Shion?

A leader. That's who Shion was. Calm, understanding, but ruthless and surprisingly level-headed when the situation called for it. With a smile and firm, persistent words that usually never tripped over themselves in dire situations, Shion had people wrapped around his finger. Nezumi wondered if he had finally begun to understand this – this power that raised him up and above other human beings.

With a frown, Nezumi made an annoyed clacking sound with his tongue. There he was, thinking of the idiot again.

Shion had only struggled with words around Nezumi, because they never seemed to see eye to eye. How many times had they had heated discussions about basically everything? Everything was a wonderful topic of discussion for Shion, always so fascinated by the things he didn't know, always so interested in acquiring more knowledge. It was never ending. Their conversations were never boring, that was for sure.

Biting on his lower lip, Nezumi took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His chest felt tight.

How many times had Shion struggled with words around him? How many times had Nezumi purposefully drawn the line between them so as to not be acquainted with those thoughts Shion so wanted to offer him? Maybe not enough times. No, definitely not enough. Because, in the end, he had wanted to understand what was going through Shion's mind. He had dug his own grave, and realized it too late.

Shion was… a person from the past. Nezumi tried to tell himself this, over and over again. There was no Shion now, and there would be no Shion in the future. They were two, very different people, with very different views of the world and very different goals. Nezumi didn't belong to a city, or even to a world such as that one. Regardless of how clever and evolved he was considering his roots, a strong part of him kept struggling to break free, somehow, and fly high, always, forever. He belonged out there, somewhere, everywhere. The world, nature was his home.

He wanted so many things, and yet he couldn't decide on one in particular. He had no sense of what 'steady location' meant.

Did he long for something? He didn't like to think so.

Was it lonely? Once, he hadn't been able to tell. When you've lived so long on your own, solitude is also a companion. Of course, Nezumi hadn't forgotten about his family or the old Grandmother who had taken care of him. But when faced with the trials of the world, those feelings of longing had faded.

Until there was Shion.

Shion, who had been with him, beside him, keeping him warm during cold nights and giving him something to live for. Caring for another, worrying about another, taking care of them and making sure they lacked for nothing, having them under your wing… It was a burden, a daily goal. Every day, Nezumi had worried. Would they have food enough for two? Would Shion be cold if the temperatures dropped? Should they get him another sweater? Would they live to see another day? Would they survive?

They both had struggled in their own ways, and Shion had been surprisingly resilient and strong willed. Nezumi's harshness had only fuelled his determination and he had reached his own strength because of it. He had grown. Nezumi had forced him to, and he wasn't sorry at all.

Still, Nezumi's heart had always felt heavy, burdened by those feelings of constant worry and longing, by even that small sigh of desire of getting home after a day's work to see Shion's face, share a small meal with him, see that idiotic smile and just… be home.

Home, huh?

That wasn't how it was supposed to be. They were not partners. They shouldn't get attached, otherwise, if something happened to the other, they both become useless.

But Shion had saved him. Not once, not twice, but many times, and in many different ways. He had saved Shion, too, and basically carved Shion's path towards what he was on that same day, so one could say that they were even.

But… was there even such a thing? Could they really ever say that they were even? Could Nezumi ever truly say that the past was behind him?

When Shion had torn down his walls and showed him that things he thought were weakness could also bring an enormous strength? When he had turned his world upside down and forced him to think differently so many times?

When he had, undoubtedly, changed him, too?

No. Moving forward was the answer, but it would never change the past. Just like he had remained attached to his feelings of hatred towards No.6, so would those feelings for a life with Shion run after him no matter where he went. And this was bad. It was the scariest, most unbalancing thing Nezumi had ever faced.

There was nothing more frightening than knowing you have no control over yourself. And Shion…

Even now, Nezumi felt confused and overwhelmed. Why had he travelled all the way down here, to this land, after so long? Why, after he had regained some semblance of his old self as a being of the forest, did he gravitate towards this very place, only to feel these heavy, burdening things all over again?

Had time not changed anything at all? What was he expecting to accomplish here, anyway?

Nezumi opened his eyes and immediately searched for the expanse of land where their home used to be. Nothing seemed to be different there, everything was exactly as before. Did their room remain intact as well? Somehow, he liked to believe so. The flooding relief that washed over him annoyed him. The way this small flicker of hope warmed up his heart was frustrating.

He shouldn't have come here. He didn't need to feel this all-consuming yearning that took him out of his comfort zone. He didn't need to feel this conflicted, this attracted towards something that he understood but didn't want to give into. He was strong, but had no strength to deal with it.

Because of Shion, Nezumi had been all too aware of his fragility. And that was something he simply did not accept.

I know I made a promise to reunite, Shion. But I…

I can't be in front of you like this. Nothing will change. This is not how it's supposed to be. I can't do this to you. We have nothing to give to each other but pain.

Nezumi's breath caught in his throat.

'Nezumi. Can't I… can't I go with you?'

'I want to be by your side. I want you to be by my side. That's all I wish for.'

'Nezumi, the world means nothing to me without you. Nothing.'

No. Shion couldn't think like that. He shouldn't. Such things were dangerous. People shouldn't depend on other people like that. They shouldn't depend on others to live, to move on. They should live for themselves, first and foremost. Find their paths, find what they wanted to fight for, to live for, to breathe for. To do it all for themselves and not because of others or for others.

Shion, you already know so much more than I do. You understand this, don't you? Because you are selfish and think so much about what you need, you are able to say such things so easily, so passionately. You are able to claim that I'm all you need. But aren't those just words? Isn't that just your wishful thinking? You wanting to use me for strength?

That's why…

That was why he couldn't go back. Because he could feel Shion's calling. Because he could see Shion, looking out the window of his home and up to the vast sky, calling out to him, wishing for his return with anguish in his heart and his lungs tight. Surely, he did it every day.

I, who am hurting you right now. Am I in the right to be that selfish? Am I even allowed to?

Do I have the right to say that I want to see you?

This isn't just about you or me. You understand that, don't you? It can never be just about us. I won't do that to you. I won't bring that sickness into your life.

A small cheeping sound resonated in his right ear, and Nezumi was woken up from his thoughts to listen to Hamlet's rant.

"Yeah-yeah, no need to be angry, I know," he mumbled, with a small frown. "But we're leaving."

More screeching cheeping came, followed by a tiny, not hurtful nip to his ear, but he chose to ignore it this time. Inside his pocket, Cravat shifted restlessly, also expressing his opinion on the matter.

"If it's that much of a big deal, why don't you go and find him?" he said, with a shrug. The two mice settled down almost at once, and Nezumi allowed himself to take another long, deep breath.

He should be back on the road soon. Towards where, he didn't know. It wasn't like it mattered anyway.

Someday, Shion.

As Nezumi turned his back to the scenery, he muttered a small lullaby he had learnt from a group of gypsies he had met a few weeks previously. The song was gentle, melodically a perfect fit for Nezumi's voice, and it seemed to be carried by the wind, echoing in the woods as he immersed himself back into this path that was yet to reveal itself.

000

Shion emerged from the underground living area as he tied his fluffy scarf around his neck. It had been a hard, but fulfilling, day of work cleaning up their room, and he felt oddly happy and blissfully light. Night was approaching fast and he knew he needed to get home or Karan would be worried if he didn't show up for dinner.

A sudden, powerful but enveloping gush of wind reached him and ruffled his snowy hair. A different scent flooded his nose, and he couldn't really put his finger on what was distinctive about it, but it made him pause and look to the side, up to the tall hills far beyond where a world unknown unfolded. There was nothing there but trees and rocks, he knew, and yet he stared at it for a while and inhaled deeply through his nose. He could swear that he could hear a song, distant and unknown, carried to him by that strong wind. It ringed low and gentle in his ears, almost indistinguishable, but it was there, he was sure.

It was touching him. Caressing him, holding him and rocking him. He was reminded of a day, back in that room, when warm arms had been around him and a body had directed his in a dance that had seemed to last for hours, days even. He could still remember how that body had felt, how those fingers, intertwined with his had been hot and firm. The scent of soap, the low humming that directed a pace, coming from lips so close to his.

Nostalgia filled him, but it came accompanied by a wonderful feeling of soothing comfort. It was cold outside, and yet he didn't feel it. On the contrary, he felt his insides burning as though a brute fever had taken over him. He felt dizzy, but it was the most wonderful dizziness in the world.

It was a feeling that was… very familiar, yet very new. It consumed him and made every cell in his body scream in yearning.

In spite of himself, Shion smiled as a frustrating blush crept up his cheeks.

So this is how it is, huh? Even now, I keep changing because of you.

Shaking his head from side to side, Shion ran a hand through his hair and made his way back to No.6, feeling content like he hadn't in a long time.

TBC…

REVIEW? Since it's my first time working with No.6, I'd love to know what you guys thought of it!